Always the Same
by TorachiKatashi
Summary: In all of the encounters we have, he only ever says one thing. Always the same troublesome thing. (GaaraShika, Yaoi/Lemon.)


Title: Always the Same

Pairing: GaaraShika

Rating: M

Warnings: Yaoi, Strong Language

Disclaimer: All details related to Naruto, including these characters and settings, belong to Kishimoto Masashi. I do not claim any ownership.

AN: This is something I drabbled up years ago and thought of the other day, and decided to do a little editing to clean it up and re-post for Shika's birthday. (Yeah, I remember fictional birthdays, what about it?) Reviews and constructive critiques are welcome, flames are not.

* * *

Every time, it's the same.

I meet her at the village gates to see her off, but I'm sure she realizes it's just for show. There are never any words of affection of kisses goodbye. Maybe a hug, if the mission is particularly dangerous. Even someone like me would feel bad if the last thing we ever did was wave to each other.

Funny, though, that I don't feel anything but relief when she's gone. For a few days, sometimes longer, we can both be content. I'm sure she'd rather be out there fighting than playing the fake domestic life with me any day of the week, and I can't really blame her.

I always stop into the same shop on the way back. I want to leave, to get to where I'm going, where _he_ expects me to be, but I can't seem too eager. I _won't_. I don't usually buy anything – just wander around and appear as though I'm looking for something. I'm sure if he had it his way, I'd teleport there as soon as Temari was out of sight of the village, but making him wait is the only chance I get to knock him down a peg.

Today is no different.

I exit the shop and walk down the same street, headed towards to same building. This place once intimidated me, but now, it's all I can do not run through the doors. I nod curtly at the guards, and they don't question me. He must have told them to be expecting me.

Before I know it, I'm up the stairs and standing in front of the bedroom door. So much for taking my time. The guards who are usually posted here are missing. I wonder briefly if he isn't here. He has duties, more than I could ever begin to handle. I don't want to think of what would happen if he _was_ waiting for me and I didn't show up, though. Mendokusei...

I open the door and step in, but I'm nearly shoved back into the hall at the force of his body against mine. His lips are against my neck, and as much as I hate to, I have to push him off. He'd have no problem stripping in the middle of the building if I let him, but I can't imagine those stodgy old advisers would make his life any easier if they rounded the corner and got an eyeful of what their Kazekage does in his spare time. Not that he seemed too worried about waiting for me, though; he's already ditched his jacket in a heap and is down to his fishnets. He backs into the room and I follow, shutting the door behind me.

I barely manage to shrug my flak jacket off before my back is against the door and he's on me again, running rough kisses along my neck, up my jaw, behind my ear. He's angry, I can tell, but I can't help but shudder under his touch. I was probably later than he was expecting me.

It doesn't last long, but it never does. He grabs me by the shirt, shoving me in the direction of his bed. I kick off my shoes and climb up onto it, and by the time I turn onto my back, he's towering over me. He doesn't waste any time lifting my shirt and fishnets over my head in one go, and as I'm running my hands up the back of his own shirt, he's already unbuttoning my pants. I want him to stop, take it slow, but at the same time, I want him to hurry up and _do it_.

He must realize my concerns because he leaves my pants half done up, sitting back on my thighs and lifting off his own shirt. He leans back down and presses his lips against my collarbone, the soft touch contrasting with the rough movement of his hips. I close my eyes and my own hips lift up to meet him, but already it's not enough. He's moved back up to my neck, and is nibbling at a sensitive spot by my ear, making me groan in the back of my throat. He runs his hands through my hair enough to pull out my hair band, and throws it to the floor. I reach between us, stilling his jittery grinding, quickly yanking my pants out of the way and moving to undo his.

The air is cool against my skin as I'm released from my pants. I remove him as well, and I can feel the bites becoming harder against my neck. I wrap my right hand around both our lengths and rub my thumb against the tips, and I can feel the vibrations as he moans against my skin. I begin to move my hand, and he starts thrusting again. I can feel the tightening in my stomach at the combined feeling of my hand and his cock.

I want more. I _need_ more. But it's not up to me if I get it. It never is.

"Gaara..." I don't usually speak, he doesn't usually let me speak, but _fuck_, he doesn't usually make me wait, either. This is probably punishment, for not being here when he thought I should be. I open my eyes to look at him and he lifts his head, leering down at me without slowing his movements. He wants me to say it. Teme.

"Please..." My voice cracks and a rather loud moan escapes me as he moves faster. "Please, _fuck_ me..."

He shifts his weight off of me and sits back on the bed, and I quickly turn to grab the small bottle off the bedside table. I open the lid and squeeze the contents into my hand, covering two fingers with it. I rub my entrance with the tip of one finger and bite my lip as I push the finger inside. I move the digit and glance down at where he's sitting by the end of the bed. He's watching me closely and touching himself. He won't wait for very long.

When we were kids, those eyes terrified me, but nowadays I don't mind so much when I see them in my sleep.

I remove the finger and add the second one, and quickly stretch myself. Fuck, I'm getting close. I gasp as I graze against the spot that sets sparks off behind my eyes, and pull my fingers out before I can hit it again. Anymore and I might finish right now. Fuck, so close.

He moves towards me and I give him a few quick strokes, spreading the remaining lube, though at this point, I wouldn't care if he fucked me without it. He lifts my legs up over his shoulders, and pauses as he presses the head of his cock against me. God, he's still punishing me. I push back against him, and something like a whine erupts from my throat. Finally he gives in, leaning forward and entering me in one thrust. His loud moan matches mine as the pain is quickly drowned out by the pleasure.

"F-fuck..." He pulls out to the tip and pushes back in, making me arch my back and moan again. He thrusts awkwardly a few more times before finding his rhythm, and between my own somewhat pathetic sounds, I can hear him panting loudly. My left hand reaches up to run through his hair as my right starts to move quickly over my cock, matching his movements.

He hits that spot, and I can taste blood as I bite down on my lip again in a feeble attempt to control myself. Any other time, the taste would annoy me, but God, I'm so close right now, I couldn't care less. He leans down to lick the small trail off my chin and tugs my bottom lip between his teeth. I can't tell if he's making the bleeding better or worse, but the question quickly leaves my mind as his tongue brushes against mine. So fucking close...

His movement is becoming more jagged, and his breaths are becoming uneven as they fan against my cheek. He's close too. I move back against him more, or as much as I can with his draped over me, quickening the movements of my hand. My other hand tightens in his hair as he hits that spot again, then again, and I lose it. I scream against his shoulder, though I'm not sure _what_ I screamed, as the burst of pleasure flows through me. I come hard, hitting his stomach, which in turn drips back down onto me. I gasp for breath as I slowly come down, releasing my hand from his hair and rubbing over his shoulders and down his back.

I can't help but watch him, and several thrusts later he too comes, shutting his eyes tight and gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep quiet, as thought I wasn't already vocal enough to have tipped off anyone who was suicidal enough to have been eavesdropping around his bedchamber. His thrusts slow as he rides out the end of his orgasm, and he leans forward again, pressing his lips to mine quickly before moving back and pulling out. The same chaste kiss as always.

He stands up from the bed and grabs my discarded shirt, wiping himself off, ever classy. As always, he gathers his clothing from around the room and redresses himself. I remain laying on his bed, watching him as he adjusts his jacket and regards himself in the mirror for a moment before presumably deciding that no proof of his activities remain. He moves to the door, and turns back to look at me.

"Shikamaru."

In all of the encounters we have, he only ever says one thing. Always the same troublesome thing.

"If you hurt my sister, I'll kill you."

Then, as always, he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

I've known a lot of confusing people, but he must be the most confusing of them all.

As always, I lay in the bed of my girlfriend's baby brother, feeling chilled as the remnants of our latest affair cools against my skin, wanting to run and never turn back, but still, wanting him to come back, to do this again.

It's always the same.


End file.
